


Agarwaen

by pandorias



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Aragorn!Human, Drama, Elves!Vampires, Legolas!Vampire, M/M, Romance, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-03-29 00:52:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13915887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandorias/pseuds/pandorias
Summary: [vampire AU] The boy couldn't help but sink into this black clearness, to embrace the awaiting calmness with open arms and to drown in those depths, for drowning he was and drowning he wanted if it meant to always be able to look into the sheer soul of this Death Angel.





	1. Prologue - Backstory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Agarwaen [Sindarin for bloodstained]
> 
> Rating: M
> 
> Commentary: This is my first story I've written (literally) in ages and I hope you will like it. I've had this idea of a vampire story containing my favorite characters of LOTR for some time, and now (with the help of a good friend of mine) I have finally begun setting it all up. English is not my mothertongue, but I promise I'll give my best to present you a captivating and memorable fanfiction.
> 
> Reviews in every form are much appreciated :)
> 
> A big thanks to my friend, beta reader Thery who also played a big part in creating this story!

**Prologue – Backstory**

There once was a land far away from all we know, another world unknown to Evil for millennials, in which all its inhabitants lived in peace and harmony: Middle-earth. It was not only a place for men, but also for far greater beings residing there; more powerful and beautiful, but kind in their unmoving hearts and strong in wills, for their one great weakness was the doom of all living: its true essence, the red blood of all those whose hearts were still beating inside their breasts.  _Life_  itself they needed to live on, to feed on it and secure their never-ending life, for they were immortal.

Vampires. Ethereal beings of sheer endless beauty and wisdom, binding themselves to one rule so simple yet so difficult and contrary to their ways of life: To never misuse their god given power against their mortal comrades, to never feed on their blood and to never use the human weaknesses to their advantage.

Weaving a future from one tangled past, mortal and immortal worked together and combined their powers - building villages, building cities, building kingdoms. Life was good and life was fair, for the people of Middle-earth, called  _Arda_ in the unique and ancient language of vampires, never knew war.

But as Evil can never  _not_  exist, souls of men and vampires once good of heart subtly grew darker, becoming black and tainted, striving for might and strength, dedicating themselves to the knowledge of dark and hidden enchantments. They performed forbidden experiments, tested themselves in the usage of black magic; they lied and cheated, seduced and killed, ripped families apart and turned friends into enemies, always veiling themselves in forsaken shadows.

The result was inevitable: war came upon Middle-earth, bringing death and destruction for many years. Orcs, a new race of dark vampires, bred for one reason that was to kill. These atrocities were the outcome of dark witchcraft carried out by the evillest being on Arda, known by the name of Morgoth, one of the highest vampire lords. They ravaged villages and took countless lives, mortal and immortal, crushing them by their enormous number; an army of mindless creatures under the command of one single vampire.

In a last attempt to once again bring peace over Middle-earth men and vampires united and combined their powers like in ancient days, only now to destroy Morgoth in a monumental fight known to history many years later as "The Last Alliance". They succeeded in bringing the enemy down, but his devilry had set too many roots in Arda, and although Morgoth was destroyed, his creation, the  _Orcs_ , endured.

The Good won, but far too great were the losses of thousands and thousands of mortal and immortal beings to go back again to a life in peace and serenity; the once lasting harmony between men and vampires now was forgotten, too great were the differences, the hatred, the accusations between the two races. And so the vampires withdrew from the surface and turned their backs to men, and the last three kingdoms of vampires were built deep in ancient forests and stones far away from any human dwellings. Forgotten was their existence by men, that only wrote of them in books of fairy tales.

Rivendell, the Last Homely Home, also called Imladris in the vampires' ancient speech, arose in the East of Eriador, West of the Misty Mountains, and Elrond and his wife Celebrian were lord and lady over the sheltered and peaceful settling in which lived the vampire race of Ñoldor.

Lothlórien, the Golden Wood, built in the mallorn trees between the Gladden River and the Fangorn Forest, was called to be the "Heart" of all vampires on Earth. The lady Galadriel and her husband Celeborn, parents to Celebrian, were ruling over their realm and its inhabitants, the Galadhrim, with wisdom and kindness.

And then there was Greenwood the Great, also known as Eryn Galen, the Woodland Realm in Rhovanion with all its strength and beauty under the ruling of King Thranduil. The heart of the kingdom was save and hidden in the depths of the forest, in which the vampire race of Silvan lived. But Dol Guldur, also known as Hill of Dark Sorcery, lay south in the forest of Greenwood and the many fell beasts there were too great in number for the Silvan to defeat; Orcs and Great Spiders housed in the great forest, turning it into a dark and dangerous place, and so it was renamed in Mirkwood.

While Imladris and Lórien lived in peace and far from any devilry for most of the time, the inhabitants of Mirkwood were in a constant fight for their home. The ancient laws long forgotten, the Silvan vampires grew hard in heart and didn't turn their desire for human blood down anymore. Neither Ñoldor nor Galadhrim could either understand or forgive them for giving into their desire, for the vampires of Imladris and the Golden Woods still held the rules of old close to their hearts and fed only of animals' blood or the food of men.

This is the story of a vampire and a human, overcoming the barriers between their different races and their different affiliations, a story of great bravery and true love, a story of deep trust and the hope of a future filled with light. They may not change this dark world, but they shall turn dim beginnings into a bright future.


	2. Angel of Death

**Angel of Death**

Dull sounds reached his ears: the clang of steel, the screams of his people, the dark roar of their enemies. He couldn't understand the voices, and everything seemed far away and unclear, as if he was under water.

He lay on the hard ground, his body unmoving, weak, cold. He couldn't feel anymore, couldn't remember anymore, couldn't "be" anymore. There seemed to be a hole inside him, ripping him apart, twisting and turning. Hurting.

It just hurt so much.

He wanted to cry but his tears wouldn't leave his veiled eyes. He wanted to scream but his lips wouldn't open. Nothing would obey him, his limbs heavy as stone were pinned to the ground, his face was involuntary turned sideways so his lifeless eyes could follow the course of a hopeless fight, for more and more dead bodies of men fell to these dark creatures that were attacking them in the middle of the night. It was as if time froze around him, slowed down to a point where every second felt like a century. He couldn't turn his eyes away from watching his family, his friends and all those who earned a place in his big heart (also those who didn't) die in front of him.

He felt alone, utterly lonely, terribly lost and he just wanted to curl himself together, pulling his knees to his chin and listen to the beautiful singing of his mother, while being held by his father, save in those big, strong arms. Mother would tell him of sailing ships and crushing waves, of sunsets and beautiful, ethereal beings singing to the sky, dancing and laughing under the moon. And then she would laugh and dance before their campfire, and Father would rise from his place, still holding him, smiling at his wife and down at his only son, before he would join the merrymaking.

But now Mother would never sing to him again, and he would never again feel himself pressed against Father's warm body, and the three of them would never laugh and dance together again. Because they were dead. Mother and Father were dead. Dead like Eadmund and Algar, like Everild and Goderun, like everyone in his big family with whom they travelled the world. He knew it, 'cause he saw them, lying in front of him, their eyes wide and unseeing, their bodies covered in hot blood steaming in the cold night, their hands intertwined so they'd still be together even in death. Maybe he too would join them soon.

And then something changed. He couldn't say what, because when he looked around, only his eyes moving, the fighting still went on, his people were still trying to turn the fight over despite the sheer masses of Orcs attacking them, and still there were dead bodies all around him, and his wounds still hurt and there was still blood slowly seeping into the ground, leaving him weaker and weaker. But now the air seemed lighter and … vibrating, and there was a slight breeze, softly dancing over his face and dishevelling his dark brown locks, wandering up to the trees and getting stronger, shaking leaves and branches. From one moment to the other the forest seemed to liven up, as if filled with new energy and the wind (for it couldn't be described as a soft breeze anymore) travelled through the clearing, leaving the ancient trees groaning.

The little boy sensed big excitement and nerve-wrecking power, he could feel the forest tensing up and the leaves and branches trembling, hope and fear at the same time were capturing his heart, and finally tears filled the deep blue and o so young eyes of the child, focusing on the mesmerizing form of … an angel. An angel of death. Its slender body seemed to glide over the forest ground, the naked feet barely touching the cold ground. The pale skin glowed softly in the light of a thousand stars and the long, silver tresses flowing down elegant shoulders had the colour of the moon itself, as if woven of its divine light.

He – for now the little child saw the masculine lines upon the alluring, angelic face and the strong body of a warrior hidden beneath robes spun of sheer darkness – was the most enchanting being the boy had had and will have ever had laid eyes upon, that he knew in that very first moment when this angel appeared in the clearing, reaching back for his long, in the cold light shimmering bow and the first arrow. His glowing red eyes focusing on his foes with a stare so furious the boy was convinced he could have killed the Orcs by simply staring at them.

Every single movement was graceful and refined, a frightening aura of power surrounding the being that shot with great speed at its opponents, every arrow striking true at the frozen hearts of countless Orcs, dead before even knowing where their enemy was. It was a dance of Death, so beautiful and horrible, harmonious and heart-wrenching the boy couldn't bring himself to look away or even blink.

In a blur the angel put his bow back, instead sheathing two twin knives he twirled skilful in his slender hands before grabbing the hilts and slashing at the attackers, ending their shameful lives full of sin and torture.

This angel accomplished what a group of full grown men couldn't do in a matter of mere moments, and all too soon everything was silent. And this quietness was where the true horrors lay, for now the fight was over and one could see the bloodbath, red and black blood mixed together, countless bodies covering the ground, a picture of destroyed hope, of extinguished life.

The angel stood still. Sad, still glowing eyes screened the scene of death before him, taking in all the lives lost and all the futures destroyed. His delicate lips opened and words of an ancient speech the boy has had never heard before filled his ears, sounding like a prayer in form of an unknown lament so bittersweet the child couldn't help but heave a small sob.

In an instant the near being turned back to him, its widening eyes resting on the wounded youngling. "Hên [child]", he spoke, his silvery and soft-spoken voice full of surprise and horror. The boy couldn't help but watch wide eyed when the angel appeared almost in an instant at his side, kneeling beside his broken body and scooping the small form so tenderly up that the little one first didn't even realize he was lifted. Despite all ethereal beauty the skin of this angel was cold like ice, but still somehow soft and easing.

"Hush, young one, hush. Nobody is going to hurt your slender frame anymore. Horrendous deeds have been brought upon you and your kin, but now comes the time to rest and heal" The voice was so calm and soothing that the sobs of the boy grew weaker and weaker, his eyes fluttering tiredly, his thoughts dull and his aching body forgetting all pain; forgetting all he had seen this night for his young mind wasn't able to grasp what it all meant.

"What is your name, tithen pen [little one]?" The child opened his eyes again, slowly and weary, and instead of glowing red he was met with seemingly endless dark pools when looking up in the eyes of his saviour – or captor? But he didn't fear this angel, he couldn't bring himself to, even if this wasn't a warrior sent from heaven but from hell. It was his eyes … frightening, but also so reassuring.

The boy couldn't help but sink into this black clearness, to embrace the awaiting calmness with open arms and to drown in those depths, for drowning he was and drowning he wanted if it meant to always be able to look into the sheer soul of this Death Angel.  _Connecting_. It was as if their true essences were connecting with one look, and despite all things happening, the young one smiled; not openly, not to be seen, but inside him his nearly diminished light began to glow in delight.

He … felt save, being in the arms of this stranger, listening to his melodious voice, staring at those dangerous fangs. The boy's blue lips opened slightly, but the answer to this ethereal being's question was lost to him. "It's alright. Losto vae hên, tithen maethor nin [Sleep well child, my little warrior]" More the child couldn't make out for now he finally passed out, indulging into darkness by free will. Would he ever wake up again? Maybe he would die, maybe he was already dead, but how could he dread it if there was this beautiful divine angel who'd sing quietly to him while he slowly lost his grip on the world surrounding him.


	3. Hunting

**Hunting**

This night had burnt itself deep into his memories and even years later it still haunted him in his dreams. Legolas had hunted this party of Orcs for weeks, tracking them from the borders of his home over the Misty Mountains to the forests of Eriador. In his mind he could still hear the terrified screams from that clearing moments before he had left his resting place to set out for his enemies once again – now in haste. Oftentimes he would later wake up in the middle of the night, the thick scent of hot, fresh blood in his nostrils that the wind had brought to him back then as a silent accusation. The message from the Valar itself was clear enough:  _You could have prevented all those deaths._

Yes, he had revenged the lives of these men, slicing and stabbing at his foes fearlessly and with all his fury, bringing them down one by one after he had entered the battlefield. He had put all his anger in his precise movements, charging without thinking twice for there was no one left he had to watch out for; no one to protect but himself in this field of death. So he had killed the Orcs, mercilessly plunging his knives (for his bow was useless in close combat) deep into their unbeating hearts, slaughtering those who he would've once been united with in kin – in a time before Morgoth and his dark witchcraft.

He could remember it as if it was only yesterday: The silence after the fight, the hopelessness in the air and the steadily growing despair in him. Slowly he had turned around himself, taking in the battlefield littered with corpses, mortal and – once – immortal. He had found and killed his targets at last after following them for almost a month, but it didn't feel like winning, not at all. Instead a quiet song of mourning had left his lips then, expressing his grief and his deep feelings of regret into guiding words for their lost souls to the halls of Mandos while seeking salvation for his own existence.

And then he had heard  _him_ , a tiny sob leaving his lips and when Legolas had turned towards the sound he had been met with a dull gaze, veiling tear-filled eyes of mesmerizing blue so captivating his thoughts had led him astray for a moment. For a second he had heard waves crushing against shores, had inhaled the salty sea wind; he had tasted the sweet aroma of freedom and at the same time felt like drowning in those depths that held him captive. He had felt this … unknown longing …

In the blink of an eye the moment was gone, but these eyes had still looked at him with such innocence, such sadness he had never seen before. He had lifted the little boy up in his arms, cradling his cold body and rocking him gently. The little one, too shocked to even speak a word, had slowly fallen into a deep slumber, snuggling closer despite Legolas' own cold body, not in search of warmth but of safety and refuge.

_**In the past …** _

Legolas shuddered, clinging to the little child as if his life depended on it, but indeed it wasn't  _his_  existence that seemed on the brink of death. The boy needed help, his body being far too cold for an Edain, especially an Edain child. And he had wounds, a deep and painful gash on his left side being the most dangerous and life threatening. It needed to be cleaned, to be stitched and tended with healing herbs, but all Legolas could do was bandaging it provisorily.

He knew what he had to do. He had failed in preventing this group of men from being killed, but there was still life in this boy – and he would make sure that he would keep it. But before he could leave the clearing, a small sound made him stop. Legolas turned around, searching for movement, for any sign of life – and found it, a little spark, flickering in the dark. Running towards the man who lay unmoving on the cold ground, he got to his knees, the boy still cradled in his arms.

The man was hurt badly, his body damaged almost beyond recognizing, but the resemblance to the little one couldn't be unseen. It was his father, stretching a shivering hand out for his boy, touching the cold skin and clinging to him desperately. "A-ra-gorn", he mumbled, tears leaking from his deep blue eyes whilst beholding his boy.

"Aragorn …", the man quietly sobbed again, so close to death, but still frightened for his only child. "He will live. Aragorn will live, I will make sure of it", Legolas told him quietly, and for the first time the father looked up to him, his eyes trusting, a small smile creeping upon pale lips. The vampire leaned down, taking in the human's last words that brought tears to his own eyes, before nodding slowly.

"I will tell him. I promise", he quietly said, his words earnestly, and slowly life crept out of the dying man. "Thank … you …" His eyes glazed over, unseeing and dead, and Legolas took a shuddering breath before reaching out and closing the father's eyes. As if in trance he stood up again, taking in the deaths of dozen men and women in quiet grieving, until a slight trembling in his arms brought him back to reality.

Aragorn. He needed help, immediately.

* * *

Legolas who had been running seemingly aimlessly through the forest stopped for a moment short, taking some moments for orienting himself. His fingers glided protectively through a mess of dark brown hair and he pressed the shuddering body against his own in a desperate attempt to warm him, to do  _something_  that made sure the child survived.

Suppressing his rising blood lust he once again continued his way, fast but with as much carefulness and attention to his surroundings as he permitted himself. He ran for what felt like an eternity, still holding the fragile bundle close to his body. It was nearly dawn when Legolas eventually saw them from afar: the gates to the vampire realm of Elrond, Imladris.

Never had he pictured himself coming that close to the hidden valley – by choice, no less. But now he didn't have another choice for the boy was growing weaker and weaker, looking more dead than alive. And for everything Legolas had been told by his people, for all the sinful deeds and cowardly acts, he remembered one thing clearly concerning the lord of Rivendell: he was a healer, one of the greatest alive.

And the vampires of Imladris still followed the old laws, never raising a hand against an Edain, feeding only on the blood of animals in harsh contrast to his own kin. Legolas recoiled at the thought of nearing the valley, (almost) alone and (as good as) defenceless, but he himself didn't have the power to help this child despite how much he wanted to.

So he travelled along hidden paths, veiling himself in dark shadows and avoiding any places with little cover. It was a most dangerous endeavour, for though Imladris was known to be peaceful it was also highly guarded in order to protect its inhabitants and its reputation as a safe haven.

Legolas' sharp senses detected a patrol nearing when he reached Rivendell's gates, staying a bit offside. With as much care as he could afford in his haste he lay his little bundle down to the forest floor, his heavy black cloak still wrapped around the child to hold him warm and safe.

"Goheno nin, tithen maethor nin [Forgive me, my little warrior]", he whispered sadly, the presence of the Imladris' guards getting stronger and stronger. He had to move,  _now_ , if he wanted to get away without being seen, but leaving was more difficult than he wanted to admit to himself. "Boe I 'waen. Novaer … Aragorn [I must go. Farewell … Aragorn]" One last time he bent over the small form, pressing his lips gently against its cold forehead before turning around and leaving.

Soon he heard shouts in the distance calling for aid and demanding more guards. In his silence he smiled to himself, hoping but somehow knowing it was the right choice to make, and turned his back once and for all to Imladris setting forth for the long journey back home.

_**In the presence …** _

"We are dangerously close to Imladris' borders, caun nin [my prince]. Maybe we should leave the Orcs to-" Legolas' brow twitched irritatedly and before Gwathion could finish he interrupted him impolitely, all the while hearing his father's reprimand about this  _unprincely_  behaviour in the back of his mind.

"We tracked them for weeks, we are  _not_  going to let them get away now. Our prey may be dumb, but their way is set to a dangerous place. Before getting too near to Imladris they will make a sharp turn and I won't let them slip away that easily" His voice was harsh and his eyes were set aflame like they always were when it came to matters of defending his home. Now they were far away from Mirkwood, but these Orcs were still a threat. Who could promise them that they would never be coming back, tainting the forest with their vile presences?

No, they would charge now to end this finally and then they would head back once again, leaving one battlefield behind only to enter another one. Not that Legolas knew any other life - in all his centuries here in Arda he had never lived in peace; there was always the constant battle to defend his kingdom, growing smaller and smaller as the years went on …

His fellow warriors nodded in agreement, one of them butting his elbow in Gwathion's side for even suggesting turning back now. The group of six went on, venturing further into unknown land, following the Orcs' tracks. These vile beasts were not far away now for Legolas could sense their foul presence in the distance.

Suddenly the clang of steel in the distance reached their ears and the hunting group could clearly discern sounds of fighting located only minutes away. They halted still, waiting and after Legolas rose his right hand in a gesture only understood by his men the group parted, approaching the battlefield from two sides.

Too fast for human eyes to follow they ran forward, almost flying over the ground, making no noise. Legolas reached for his bow and nocked an arrow, and mere moments later Caladir, who he was seldomly seen without for the brown haired warrior was not only his guard but also his best friend, arrived at the combat zone, taking in the scene: dozens of Orcs had apparently ambushed a group of Imladris' guards, taking them unaware as it seemed for only half of the Ñoldor still stood on their feet, the others laying motionless on the forest floor.

Not a single moment later the other part of Legolas' party appeared on the opposite side of the clearing, waiting for his sign that was given after another second in form of a shrill whistle. Orcs and Ñoldor the same were startled by the sudden appearance of the Silvan for no one, not even the vampires of Imladris, had heard their coming and without hesitating the Mirkwood contingent engaged in the fight.

With the promise of aid the Ñoldor began attacking anew and more fiercely than before for now they didn't stand alone anymore against these masses of vile creatures. But they could barely compete against their Silvan companions charging at their foes with almost bestial brutality, murdering their enemies with cold-blooded ferociousness in a dance so captivating and alluring the Imladris' patrol couldn't help but admire their skill – and dreading their merciless violence.

"Elrohir!", came suddenly the terror-stricken shout from one side of the clearing, and Legolas' head shot to his left where he could see one of the Ñoldor fighting against two Orcs, his widened eyes however looking across the field to his … exact mirror image; the person addressed was thrusting his long sword into the chest of his enemy but didn't see an attacker creeping up from behind, a nasty grin plastered on his deformed face, his hand gripping a dagger slashing forwards.

Before even thinking Legolas had released the arrow, piercing the wrist of the Orc a hair's breadth away from the Ñoldors back. The second arrow struck true only a blink of a second later, boring itself deep in the beast's throat that fell to ground dying, struggling for breath, black blood oozing out of the fatal wound. None of these things deserved the fast and easy way out of this world, the short moments of pure torment bringing true satisfaction to its killer.

Only minutes after this incident the fight was over with every single Orc dead, their bodies staining the leaf-covered ground. Ignoring the Ñoldor Legolas turned to his fellows, taking in every single one of them. Nobody had died, nobody seemed to have any life-threatening wounds. Still Cîleth leaned heavily on her bow, blood seeping from a deep gash on her side, and Arasdir limped unsteadily forwards for an ugly cut was located on his left lower leg.

Suddenly his ears picked up an unnatural sound to his right, like something stretching, like someone pulling at some sort of string … like someone drawing a bow, releasing an arrow. Before he could react he was pushed away, and a single black arrow ebbed itself deep into Caladirs shoulder, the hard impact sending him to ground. Legolas drew his bow in inhuman speed, the arrow released piercing the enemy archer's heart, so the killed orc fell from his hiding place in a tree.

"Caladir!", Legolas shouted alarmed and got to his knees, snaking an arm around his companion. He lifted him up slightly so both were kneeling, his friend groaning in hurt. "What have you done?", he couldn't help but ask, his voice exasperated – but Caladir knew he wasn't angry, rather frightened. "My job … to guard you … caun nin [my prince]", the brown-haired vampire stuttered, his pale lips lifted to a weak smile.

"Oh hush" Legolas wasn't up for jokes, instead he pressed Caladir softly to the ground and cut his garments apart so he could have a better look at the injury. The arrow still stuck in his shoulder, and Legolas hissed when he didn't only see blood but also dark spider webbings spread across the wound. "Poisoned. Goheno nin, mellon nin, [Forgive me, my friend] but I have to take it out. Glâmen, come here, hold him down"

The vampire addressed was at his side instantly, doing what he was told. "At three. Three … two …" Before he came to "one" Legolas pulled the arrow with one strong jerk out of his friend's body, a tortured scream erupting from Caladir. "You said …", he begun but was interrupted impolitely.

"I said hush, u-bedo [don't talk]", Legolas quietly snapped while bandaging the wound provisorily, his hands slightly trembling. "Taking commands … from a vampirling. How could it come … so far?", Caladir muttered, groaning when he received a blow over his head.

"Stay down", Legolas growled and got back to his feet, turning to the Ñoldor for the first time since the fight. They hadn't had so much luck for there were two dead bodies amongst the group of guardians. Nobody was unscathed after the attack, and he was met with curious and distrustful stares when he drew near. The twins were the ones to greet him, and Legolas remembered that he had saved the life of one of them before – however he didn't know which one's life it had been for both looked exactly the same.

So this could only be the infamous Imladris' twins, Elladan and Elrohir, the sons of Elrond and Celebrian. "We tracked this band of Orcs for weeks", Legolas stated as if it was answering every single one of their questions, but really, he didn't mind.

"You're from Mirkwood", one of the twins said surprised, eyeing him with caution and much uneasiness. Instead of confirming this, Legolas took a step aside so the Ñoldor could have a look at his party. "Three of my people are hurt, one by a poisoned arrow. They are in dire need of help, so are you. We accompany you to Imladris" It wasn't a question.

The twins glanced at each other doubtfully and warily, but they understood that although it was their home Legolas spoke of, they momentarily were in no position to turn the Mirkwood vampires down.

Legolas' hunting group had held their breaths when their leader spoke to the Ñoldor and they were more than discontent with the outcome. "Legolas, you don't need to –", began Caladir, his voice already much weaker, his upstanding body heavily supported by Glâmen.

"Silence!" Legolas glared dangerously at his best friend, knowing very well that nobody of his people wanted to enter the valley. But they didn't have another option, for Caladir needed a healer, and so did Cîleth and Arasdir.

And so they left the clearing, following the Ñoldor to their home. Legolas halted for a moment when in the distance he could make out the great gates leading to Imladris.  _Are you still alive … Aragorn?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are much appreciated :) I really hope my story is to your liking - tell me your opinion!
> 
> And I borrowed the word "Elfling" for elven children - I just couldn't help myself forming it into "Vampirling". Sounds ... cute.


	4. Déjà Vu in Imladris

**Déjà Vu in Imladris**

It felt like déjà vu standing before the gates of Imladris, coming from a long Orc hunt, searching for aid, for one who he held dear was in grave danger – although years ago his identity had been hidden. Dawn approached, not of early morning as it had been back then, but of late evening, the first stars showing themselves on the sky. Like so often he asked himself if Aragorn was still alive, but never had he been so close to his nagging question's answer.

Legolas straightened slightly when the gates slowly opened themselves, preparing himself for what was to come. They entered the valley, staying behind the group of Ñoldor led by the twins. Guards welcomed them with stoic silence, eyeing each one of the Silvan vampires suspiciously before turning their immediate attention to their own kin.

Three warriors had already made their way to the twins' group, gasping in shock when seeing their pitiful state. "Call for our lord!", one of them shouted, his gaze wandering briefly over their unexpected guests before turning back to their people. At once the appointed messenger dashed away in search of Elrond for he surely wanted to receive information about his sons promptly, and his presence was also needed for the Mirkwood delegation.

Legolas, still helping Glâmen with supporting Caladir who could barely stand anymore, had reached the courtyard in the meantime. He eyed his friend worriedly whose head had sunken down onto his breast, veiling his drawn and unnaturally pale face with long dark brown hair. His weak body was shivering violently after the seemingly endless way from the battlefield to Imladris, and with a meaningful look to Glâmen they got to their knees, setting Caladir down on the stony ground.

Ignoring his surroundings for now, Legolas pressed his cold hand against Caladir's warm forehead who moaned softly before a violent convulsion shook body. "Hold on, my friend", he quietly whispered before getting up once again, turning first to the rest of his group behind, then to the commotion in front of him.

"Where are my sons?", a proud but worried voice sounded from the deeper parts of Imladris and Legolas could see a tall vampire approaching them. His long brown hair was braided back and his face bore breath-taking youth as was characteristic for his kin, but his eyes seemed far older than his appearance suggested.

Legolas squared his shoulders and lifted his chin whilst watching the newcomer welcoming the attacked patrol, his grieving gaze wandering over the fallen bodies before returning his attention to his sons. Only after making sure they weren't severely wounded he turned to his Silvan guests, sudden mistrust written plainly all over his face.

"Mae g'ovannen Hir Elrond a Imladris [Well met Lord Elrond of Rivendell]. We come from the realm Las Galen over the Misty Mountains", Legolas was the first to speak after standing before the lord, his hand closed to a fist held over his unbeating heart whilst bowing courtly before him. "After tracking the group of Orcs attacking your people all the way from Mirkwood's borders we engaged in the fight to help your kin. Despite victory we didn't leave the battlefield unscathed and three of my warriors are in dire need of help", he explained himself before standing straight again.

Warily Elrond scrutinized him in front of his people, making no effort to hide his suspicion. It was clear he wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of housing people of the Mirkwood sprain, but instead of turning them away, he said, although hesitantly: "I thank you for aiding our people, leader. Till you have seen to your wounded and they are well enough to travel, I grant you access to our precious valley"

"Le fael, Hir Elrond [Thank you/You are generous, Lord Elrond]", Legolas spoke relieved and turned to his group. He gestured Caladir, Cîleth and Arasdir, together with Glâmen who still supported most of his best friend's weight, to follow Elrond's servant. He would lead them through the maze called Imladris to the healing wards – and hopefully they would arrive safely. Caladir glanced to Legolas worriedly, not wanting his best friend to deal alone with those Ñoldor, but there was still another one left of their party.

Gwathion stayed with him, having no wounds in need of urgent treating, and he also wanted to reassure his prince didn't get in any kind of danger. But before the wounded could retreat a loud, high-pitched scream came from afar and only moments later a whirlwind of curly dark locks ran into the courtyard, arms wide spread and a big grin plastered on a childish face, red from all the running. "Dan! Ro!", he called, laughing heartily before suddenly being aware of the foreign people standing on the wide, stony platform.

The slight interruption caused the little one to misstep and with a loud crash the boy went down, falling lengthwise to the unyielding ground. Legolas' eyes widened in shock when he took in the form of the child, no more than seven years old, not immortal but mortal. An Edain.  _Aragorn_.

"Estel", one of the twins gasped, startled at the sudden appearance of his foster brother who was now crying openly, his hands and knees bloody. Faster than one could look one twin had picked the child up onto his arms, rocking him gently and whispering soothing words into the ears of the little one.

Legolas had tensed up, his throat throbbing while the sweet scent of hot, young blood filled his nostrils. Immediately his eyes turned to a bright, glowing red and his fangs bore themselves into his lips while he had to hold onto every single ounce of self-control to stay right where he was. Hunger. Valar he  _craved_  for that young blood, innocent and untainted, he could barely hold his longing at bay.

From the corner of his eye he could see strangled movement from where the rest of his group was, Caladir in his weakened state more prone as was good to this much needed essence of life. Glâmen had visibly problems in holding his companion back, but before anyone could do something unthinkable Legolas' right hand shot up in the air, forming it into a fist a moment later. "Enough!", he commanded without so much as looking back to his friends, every single one of them freezing in an instant as if caught in an all-consuming ban.

"Retreat", he ordered next, his voice cold and hard, and slowly everyone of his group except Gwathion left the courtyard hesitantly. "You may go", Legolas added when looking at his last remaining companion, his body tense for he too was exposed to his blood lust. They hadn't had a good meal since entering the dangerous path leading over the Misty Mountains. Gwathion paused for a short moment uncertainly before bowing awkwardly and following the others.

Legolas swallowed his own thirst down, closing his eyes for a moment - when opening them again they once again were dark and impassive. "Forgive me and my company, Hir Elrond. We didn't mean any disrespect in reacting such way, but my warriors and I are exhausted and weren't prepared to find one of the Edain here"

Elrond's face was uptight like that of his two sons, fury glimmering visibly in his eyes while staring at Legolas. "See that you get your troop under control, leader", he almost spat as if they had offended him personally. Again, Legolas had to swallow, but not his lust for blood but instead his anger.

Then he felt a gaze upon him – nothing out of the ordinary to be honest, but something seemed off. It wasn't … offending, more curious and … fascinated? Legolas turned his face so his eyes met those of the young boy who examined him with wonder in his blue orbs. Forgotten was his pain and so was his brother still holding him safely in his arms. The child's whole attention was focused on the fair-haired being a few meters away, his features strikingly beautiful, his whole existence captivating.

The long blonde hair falling far over tense shoulders triggered something the boy couldn't grasp, like a blur of a memory, a picture from his dreams. Those eyes, previously holding a glowing red, were now coloured in a dark grey, like the fog grazing the valley in the early morning hours. His stance alone told the little one, besides the long wooden bow and the hilts of twin daggers he could see behind his shoulders, that he had a warrior in front of him; the lithe, slender body was draped in fitting clothes of green and brown, making him almost invisible when standing near trees, he was sure of it.

Meanwhile Legolas' eyed the young one carefully, noticing the healthy look showing that he was treated well here. Despite being surrounded vampires he seemed to grow up to be a vivacious young boy which was also evident by his spectacular entrance earlier. Although still doubting the people of Imladris, especially its lord, he silently thanked them for taking care of the Edain.

 _Aragorn._  But they didn't know his real name, so it was Hope they called him. Hope for what?

Suddenly the boy was hidden from his view, blocked by the twin who had turned away from them, leading the Edain away with his brother. "Come Estel, let's get your knees wrapped up", one of them said with a stiff smile. Looking up into the eyes of the valley's inhabitants it was clear that they had misinterpreted Legolas' curious and inquisitive gaze for something darker and his brow twitched irritatedly.  _They think me some kind of monster, not able to control myself. I didn't survive centuries in acting after my desires!_

"I will have sent some food upon your rooms", Elrond informed him with a cold glance.  _Meaning he doesn't want us to stray around._  Legolas took a deep breath before nodding, bowing his head courtly before following his warriors. After he was out of sight his impassive mask dropped instantly, being replaced by barley contained fury. He hadn't known before coming here what the meeting with the valley's lord would be like. Even though Legolas had been sure their delegation wouldn't be welcomed with opened arms, he certainly hadn't been prepared for this amount of hatred and loathing against his kin.

Blind for his beautiful surroundings, the well cared for gardens and the antic structures built into the stone of the Misty Mountains Legolas stalked along the path leading to the building where his group had been led before. It didn't strike him as a surprise that it was far away from the main buildings in Imladris and honestly, he preferred not having to deal with these Ñoldor.

If every single one of them chose to behave like their  _wise_  and  _almighty_  lord, looking down on him and his kin after they had saved these guards and also Elrond's ungrateful sons, he would make sure to stay away from them as much as possible.

Again his thoughts led him to Aragorn whom they called Estel, and a quiet sigh left his lips.  _As long as you're happy, tithen pen [little one]._  And happy the boy seemed to be for there had been pure delight in those mirthful eyes when he had first entered the courtyard in search of his brothers.  _At least they know how to behave in front of him._

* * *

It was hours later when Legolas came to rest, the others already sound asleep on their mats laid out at the hall they were given to, for everyone was exhausted after weeks of hunting. He had seen to all his companions, talking quietly with them and taking care of their wounds as was his self-imposed obligation as their patrol leader.

Quietly he slipped out of his tunic, revealing his pale skin to the torches' glow. Several untended wounds, hidden before by his long clothing, were scattered on his lithe body; half healed bruises he had sustained in the many fights recently, and the damage done to him today.

He quietly hissed at the first contact of water on unclean cuts before washing his dirty body in silent torment. For a moment he closed his eyes, relaxing softly under the light of the flames; he lived for these moments, nobody interrupting his peace, everyone safe and cared for, allowing him to lift the weight of responsibility for his people of his sunken shoulders for a few hours.

Pulling out another spare tunic to cover himself after finishing washing himself, Legolas was met with the glazed eyes of Caladir, silently watching him from his mattress. "You should sleep, my friend" Legolas sighed for he knew his best friend had seen his wounds, now again hidden from view by bandages and his tunic. "And you should tell us when you're wounded. At least me", came the quiet, rasped answer.

Legolas slid noiselessly to his friend, getting down on his knees and pressing his hand softly against the heated forehead, sweat dripping down the deathly pale skin. "You've got a fever", he said, frowning, but Caladir would have none of that. "Don't change the topic, Legolas. This is –"

"- important. Iston [I know]", Legolas ended the sentence and slowly shook his head. "Don't burden yourself with this now, Caladir. We talk about it when you're up on your feet again" Caladir looked up to him unhappily, but he knew in his current state he couldn't do anything about this, which he didn't like at all.

Taking in the trembling of his best friend Legolas got back to his feet, crossing the hall without making so much as a noise, before coming back with healing herbs he crushed into the remaining, unused warm water. "Drink this, it will lessen your pain" He helped Caladir lifting his upper body before watching him drink the whole cup. The result could be seen only moments later when the shuddering lessened and Caladir's eyes slowly closed.

"Losto vae, mellon nin. Abarad [Sleep well, my friend. Until tomorrow]" Legolas bent down and pressed his cold lips against Caladir's hot temple after laying him down on the mattress again, making sure he was comfortable. Only when his companion was sound asleep he gave his own body permission to rest, crawling to the mat near Caladir.

Moaning softly Legolas lay down and soon found himself walking in the paths of dreaming, his eyes closed in an unnatural way for vampires for normally their seeing orbs were open and unseeing, glazed over in sleep. But he was too exhausted and hurt, too wary and tired for normal sleep.

* * *

It was evening again, Anor [sun] setting west, its warm light leaving the illusion the forests surrounding Imladris were afire. Already Legolas could make out Ithil [moon] in the distance, almost invisible in this colourful sky, its pale white form drowning under the firmament painted in heavy blue, violet, pink, red and so much more shades he couldn't even name.

He couldn't help but admire this picturesque sight, gazing fondly and with eyes slightly widened in fascination towards the horizon where heaven seemed to explode in slow motion. Never had he seen something so mesmerizing before, his own home dark and Menel [heaven] covered by the thick, intertwined branches of ancient trees, shielding them so that sometimes they didn't see the sun for months.

Maybe this was why the Silvan seemed so dark in comparison with the Ñoldor and the Galadhrim, apart from more obvious reasons like constant war, confrontation with death even though they were immortal, and being left alone with their fights for their kin turned away from them long time ago.

Legolas felt vile bitterness rising inside of him at the thought that these people here enjoyed life, that they watched sunsets like this every day and lived here in peace while his kin at home was fighting for their survival, their numbers decreased to only a few hundred now.

He swallowed hard and closed his eyes for a few moments, concentrating on his fitful breathing and fighting for control once again. Only then he sensed a foreign presence making its way through the secluded grove Legolas had found near their quarters in search for solitude and peace. A mere second later he could hear footsteps, unnaturally loud and short for those of a vampire, and a hummed lullaby of the Ñoldor's style he didn't recognize reached his ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there :) I hope you all like this story, and I appreciate every single review. See you!  
> And once again I'd like to thank my beta-reader Thery :) You're doing an amazing job!


	5. Strange Meetings

**Strange Meetings**

It wasn't for long until  _he_  came into sight, running through the small forest and singing softly to himself, the mess of dark locks on his head bobbing up and down with every step.  _He doesn't see me_ , Legolas thought, and he wasn't surprised by this fact. He was sure that even Imladris' warriors would need some time to make him out underneath those trees at the cliff for here, underneath those trees, he was in his true element.

Everyone in Mirkwood had a special bond to nature itself but nobody loved the forests as much as Legolas who could listen to their songs all day and night, who was maybe more at ease with trees than with his own kin, who could hear the thoughts of these ancient souls and communicate with them. He didn't know if his royal blood was cause for this connection to Arda for his father was the only other person he knew who also possessed these astonishing abilities, but not even the Great Thranduil could compete against his son in his love for nature itself.

Estel came closer slowing down his pace for his secret destination were the cliffs from where he could watch the whole world – or so the boy thought. Little did he expect someone already sitting at his favourite place but as soon as his deep blue eyes caught vision of Legolas he came to a halt, his orbs widening.

Instead of fearing him however the boy began his run anew, eager to reach the cliffs as fast as possible. Legolas watched him bemused, a hint of a grin toying around his pale lips. "Mae g'ovannen [Well met]", the boy greeted him politely and even bowed before the warrior before he placed himself without so much as asking next to him, the grin on the vampire's lips broadening even more. "Mae g'ovannen, tithen pen [Well met, young one]", he answered making place for Estel so that both could lean their backs against the tree behind them.

Neither of them seemed to question this strange meeting, both content to watch the last minutes of the sunset in awe. Estel didn't even know that this wasn't the first time they met, and he probably wouldn't do so ever. With the sunlight fading more and more, granting way to the darkness of the early evening and the mystical glow of Ithil as well as thousands and thousands of stars, Legolas silently watched his companion, taking in his features. He had only seen him once, but the boy resembled his father.

"I know you from yesterday. You were at the courtyard with the other vampires! I have never seen you before … Are you from here? Ada [Daddy] won't talk to me about it and Dan and Ro are too busy", the boy began eventually, and Legolas couldn't help but be astounded by that waterfall of words. O, this young one was a talker!

"I come from far away – from over the Misty Mountains and many leagues forth. Mirkwood is my home called", Legolas answered, and his grin grew softer when he saw the curious look the boy gave him, showing that he desired to know more. But before he could continue, the boy once again began to talk in excitement.

"Mirkwood … I have heard stories about it! The big forest east of the Misty Mountains where the Silvan vampires live. A real kingdom! Ruled by a real king! King … Thr … Thru …", Estel stuttered, and Legolas jumped in to help. "King Thranduil", he said, surprised that this little boy seemed to know so much at his young age. After all this was an Edain, and he wouldn't have thought that the Ñoldor would educate their children about his "tainted" race.

"King Thranduil, yes! Do you know him? I have heard that he is really scary, and that some of his guests never return from his palace alive … But I think the others just wanted to tease me. They always do so. By the way, I'm Estel [Hope]. You know my ada already, and Dan and Ro too, my brothers! Who are you?"

Legolas couldn't help but laugh quietly about this little kid here, talking and talking in never-ending ways, jumping from one topic to another, sounding so curious when he wanted to understand the world. Valar, when was the last time he had actually laughed? "My name is Legolas, and I can assure you, although the king is a regal and authoritative person every single one of his guests left our kingdom unscathed. Or at least the most of them", he added with a slight twinkle in his eyes, leaving young Estel next to him giggling in delight.

If Elrond knew that his foster son sat here with his greatest enemy (or so it seemed for the looks the Silvan prince and his comrades had received from him the day before), the Lord of the Valley would have his head for sure. But Legolas quite enjoyed his time with Estel, the young Edain being a good humoured and very inquisitive fellow.

Soon they lost themselves in stories, Estel wanting to hear everything interesting there was to tell about Mirkwood - about the big forest, the palace, the people there and their lifestyle.  _It's heartwarming_ , Legolas thought,  _to tell someone innocent and without prejudice about my infamous home._  It was hours later they realised how late it was – or actually Legolas realized, because Estel's eyes seemed to droop more and more, and the wide yawn was symbol enough that it was time for the little one to go to bed.

"Will you come with me, Legolas?", Estel asked quietly, his blue eyes big and pledging while he held Legolas long slender hand in his own tiny hands, squeezing it desperately. The blonde warrior sighed quietly, his gaze wandering back to the high buildings of Imladris far away. It was impossible for him to leave the little one alone for he thought the way to be too dangerous for a young child, especially for one of the Edain nature.

But he didn't want to get caught side by side with the human for his own heredity seemed to cause already too much trouble and he didn't want to infuriate the Ñoldor even more. Quietly weighing his options, he eventually rose elegantly to his feet, helping Estel (the name suited him, he thought) getting up and then nodded slightly.

"But you must be absolutely quiet, tithen pen [little one]. Your father doesn't like me very much, it seems, and we don't wanna get in trouble, right?" Estel nodded eagerly, his eyes once again big and instead of tiredness there was sheer excitement. "So let's play a game of stealth. Our destination is your room, but nobody must see us, and we have to work together to accomplish our mission"

Now Estel's eyes shone with anticipation, the promise of this little adventure thrilling the boy. He sneaked his hand in the older ones, leaving Legolas speechless for a moment for he wasn't used to such acts of innocence, and only a moment later a soft smile lit up his fair face.

"Ready?", Legolas asked with all the seriousness he could muster, Estel nodding with sure determination in his glowing eyes. And so, the unusual team made its way back to the centre of Imladris, hiding behind bushes and trees, climbing up walls of stone and branches of large pine-trees that held their weight easily, and passing clueless vampires far above their heads. Most of the time Legolas carried the little boy, holding him safe in his arms or making sure Estel had a good hold when carrying him piggyback.

"Where now?", he asked quietly, perched on the top of a high archway, far away from the reach of the lights from below, blending in almost completely with the night. "I think it's in this direction. We may see it any moment", Estel answered quietly, pointing in front of them where the main building stood. "I think I heard you speak of a blue curtain before – are there some golden figures stitched on it? I can see it weighing softly in the wind, the glassed door wide open leading to a balcony" Estel's breath hitched, and with soft giggling he pressed himself further against Legolas back, leaving a warm and almost comfortable feeling.

"Yes, it is! Amazing! I can see nothing!", the boy gasped lout, earning a quiet "Shhh", from Legolas who couldn't help but smile. "Then let's go" Stealthily they made their way over the roofs and archways of Imladris, every single step set confidently and without the slightest hesitation. This was more fun than Legolas had thought in the beginning, and he also couldn't help but laugh quietly when they passed another pair of the Ñoldor vampires far down without being noticed.

One time they almost got caught, for directly in front of them a window was opened when they had to jump from roof to roof, from balcony to balcony, but Legolas had let go his grip in the last moment, dropping both of them one floor lower. Bless the Valar Estel had stayed quiet during this little manoeuvre, and when Legolas had turned to him, momentarily sitting on the balcony's railing, he actually found the boy stifling his laugh!

"O, you truly are a little devil, Estel", Legolas told him laughing to himself, both enjoying the view for a few minutes before continuing their way to the quarters of Elrond's foster son. Not much later they finally reached their destination, and Legolas placed his little package in form of a child down to the ground before crouching before him.

"You made it!", Estel exclaimed happily and full of joy, clapping his hands together. "No", Legolas said and shook his head, smiling at the young one softly. " _We_ made it. Together" Estel presented him with a smile so big it made his mouth seem to reach from one ear to the other. Before Legolas could do something, this mess of limbs, brown hair and joyful laughing had thrown itself into his arms, hugging him with such ferocity Legolas thought he would never get to breathe again.

After a slight hesitation he returned the hug, pressing the young one softly to him and closing his eyes. "That was so much fun! Never have I experienced something like this. Thank you, Las! I wish you'd stay here forever … Then we could always do this, tell each other stories, look at the moon and the stars …" Legolas ran his hand through Estel's soft hair. "And turn your home upside down?", he added with slight grin, earning boyish giggling again.

Legolas released Estel after a few moments, looking at him with silent adoration. Such an adorable child. Then his nose caught something, a sweet and exquisite smell that let his eyes change its colour from dark grey to glowing red instantly. Blood. Scanning the figure in front of him, his gaze dropped to Estel's arm where he could make out a little scratch. It wasn't worrying, but whatever had caused the wound had broken the unprotected skin, now leaking small droplets of blood.

"You're hurt", he said, his voice dark and strained, a bizarre smile grazing his pale lips. Legolas' head felt dizzy, the smell of fresh blood after weeks of exhaustion causing him to almost lose himself, his hunger threatening to overpower him. Gently he pulled Estel towards him, looking over the wound before lowering his head. The boy stilled, watching the beautiful warrior in front of him with a mix of awe and insecurity, especially when he could discern long white fangs in the open mouth of his newfound friend.

"Let me have a look" Legolas' tone dropped lower, gingerly caressing the soft skin with long fingers, his lips hovering above the wound. His breathing was ragged, his inner monster screaming and raging against the cage he had put it into, craving to be freed, to be fed.

O such a tempting smell … Only a little bit lower, and he would taste this delicious essence of life; he would drink of the red liquid, savouring every single drop until none was left, and he would pray to his gods and thank them for this high sacrifice.

Legolas sighed, closing his eyes and shuddering softly. "I'm afraid I have to go now", he whispered quietly, his fingers ripping a piece of cloth from his garments only to wrap it softly around the wounded arm. Then his hand wandered up to the boy's (from all the excitement) reddened cheeks, the vampire's eyes still painted red. "But we will do this again?", the young one asked, suddenly afraid that his newfound friend wouldn't come back. "Watching the sunset? Playing games?"

"Now, now. I'm sure we will continue our little adventure, I just don't know when. Go inside now, little one, it's already late. Maybe we will see each other tomorrow" Legolas looked up when he heard footsteps nearing the door leading to Estel's bedroom. He got up quickly, looking down at the child that smiled at him in contentment, hugging him one last time before Legolas left how he had entered this part of Imladris: a silent shadow, fast and not to be seen by those who didn't know what to look for.


	6. Imladris' Hospitality

**Imladris' Hospitality**

He closed his eyes for a few moments, forcing himself to breathe in and out slowly, intending to calm down. He wouldn't allow these Ñoldor to have him lose his barely constrained self-control, no matter the harsh words. It was the morn of their second day here in Imladris and after Legolas and his companions had broken their fast, the prince and his companion Gwathion had made their way through the valley.

They had been in search of the Ñoldor's lord, for Legolas thought it his duty to thank the ruling vampire for letting them stay here and he, too, needed to enquire about an additional load of Athelas [Kingsweed]. The stock of this particular healing herb was getting dangerously low and they couldn't afford running out of it.

Cîleth and Arasdir were already getting better in reasons of health, the gash on the female warrior's side had closed and healed well, thanks to the good self-recovery abilities of vampires and the potent potions of Elrond's healers. Arasdir, too, was on his feet again, the wound of an Orc's scimitar almost healed for he could walk again without needing a supporting hand.

Only Caladir still needed rest, despite the aggressive poison from the arrow-wound having subsided in the meantime, thank Valar. But the previous night had left him very weak for wild fever had raged through his already battered body, and Legolas had more than once thought he would lose his best friend to the Halls of Mandos.

After he had come back from his secret trip with Estel he had sat hours at his friend's side, doing everything in his power to lower his hot temperature and sending prayer after prayer to his gods, pleading to spare Caladir's life. They had apparently heeded his desperate words for his comrade still drew breath with the rising of Anor [sun] and his fever had finally broke.

And now he stood here, tense Gwathion at his side, struggling for his dignity when everything inside him wanted to rip out the throats of these arrogant Ñoldorian Vampires. He would've feasted on them, ripping them apart and savouring every single drop of blood.

"It verges on impudence to find you standing here, demanding more valuable resources of our small home in times when Winter nears. Already we have to carefully spend our rations to see to everyone's wellbeing, we can't care about a bunch of hostile vampires from the outside too", Elrond's voice rang through the wide room, the lord wandering aimlessly from one side of his office to the other.

Behind him three vampires were seated, his o so dear sons and another Ñoldor with long golden hair spilled over his shoulders, looking every bit the famous person he was: Glorfindel, a warrior of ancient times. He was the only Ñoldor Legoals had always looked up to, loving the stories about glorious deeds and unconditional sacrifice, but seeing him there with his cold hard face, seemingly agreeing with the insults his lord flung at his guests, was just disappointing for the Silvan.

Disappointing and sad, for he had hoped that his first meeting with the famous Glorfindel would be better and that he could ask about all those tales he grew up with. Now he had a talk he would never forget, but Legolas hadn't wished for such a negative outcome.

"Hir Elrond, saes. [Lord Elrond, please.] I didn't  _demand_  anything of you, I bade you for some more Athelas to reduce my friends' pain – from the battle  _we_  fought to safe  _your_  patrol" Legolas glanced to Elladan and Elrohir who raised their eyebrows unison, looking meaningful at each other, before turning to the others again. "And Winter is still far away, for the trees have only recently begun to lose their summer-green colour", he tried to bring reason in this seemingly endless and meaningless talk.

"I won't tolerate some insolent brat speaking up against me! And since when does the  _o so mighty_  King Thranduil place mere children in the position of a group leader? How should I take someone seriously who is younger than my last-born child?" Gwathion growled quietly behind him, taking one threatening step towards the Ñoldor's lord, only to be held back by his leader.

"Since when does age define who's a good leader and who is not? Wisdom is found everywhere, in the eyes of our youngest and in the minds of our old and wise – and same goes for stupidity or recklessness, my lord", Legolas quietly responded, his voice calm and steady, but his eyes seething with unseen fire glowing dark red.

"Out of every companion in my group, all loyal and honest, it seems to be an odd coincidence that you have picked exactly  _me_  to express your disrespect for our king. I would have willingly taken every single insult aimed at me and my … improperness as a leader without so much as a word. But you chose not only to taunt my companions, but also to humiliate my king, my own  _father_  with your rash and hateful comments."

With satisfaction Legolas watched not only Elrond's, but also the eyes of the other present Ñoldor growing wide with this new information. The twins swallowed loudly and Glorfindel's lips opened soundlessly, only to close again moments later. The valley's lord looked at him with shock clearly written all over his face and he eyed Legolas again, now obviously noticing the resemblance to his father: The long, silver hair, the deep blue eyes, the way he moved and spoke, and especially the regal demeanour the young one now put on display.

"You're … You're Legolas. Legolas Thranduilion, Crown Prince of Mirkwood?", Glorfindel asked and Legolas took one step forward, his eyes aflame and seething with hatred. "You, all of you, should be deeply ashamed of your sick behaviour – not only in front of me, but especially in front of my people, my friends. Those, who fought  _your_  fight!

"We came to you in search of a place to stay and to tend to our wounded, for they were in dire need of medication. We never asked for more than a safe room and herbs to help the wounded. But you took it upon yourself to let your ignorance and hatred against my kin to get the better of you. I saved the life of one of your 'grateful' sons and you thank me, thank  _us_ , by looking down on us - by laughing behind our backs and by doing us an injustice we don't deserve.

"I was told many tales about the Great Elrond, about his fairness and his good and wise heart, but now that I've seen your true face I can only laugh about my foolishness for coming to you, asking for help. Shame on you, Elrond, shame on you and your kin"

He didn't hide his disappointment, his frustration anymore. Legolas' words were full of bitterness for being treated as a criminal, for having to listen to these people disrespecting his father and king, and his friends who almost had given their life in order to save their patrol.

Instantly he saw regret in the lord's face, like putting him into his place had opened his eyes, but Legolas would have none of that. "We're leaving. Gwathion, go tell the others to pack their things. I want to get away from this dark and hateful place as soon as possible", he commanded with a cold voice, still staring at the Ñoldor in front of him which for once seemed at a loss for words.

"But my liege, are you sure -?", Gwathion began uncertain, staying at a safe distance for he didn't dare to get too close to his prince at the moment. "I said  _now_!", Legolas interrupted him, his whole body tense and his breathing ragged. He fought hard to not lose his temper like this again, but he didn't regret any word he had said during this spiteful conversation.

"And Caladir?", Gwathion asked quietly, his head bowed in respect, worry displayed on his fair face. Legolas closed his eyes for a moment, thinking of his best friend who was still hurt and in dire need of rest. "He will have to manage", were his last words to this topic and with a slight bow his companion left his leader.

Heavy silence filled the room whilst the two headstrong parties regarded each other, Legolas alone against four Ñoldor lords. Nobody dared to speak, instead a battle of the eyes was fought, the Silvan not backing away. No, he felt no fear facing these vampires, it was more like a deep resentment.

"Legolas, we –", Glorfindel began quietly, regret in his eyes, but fury still cursed through the prince's veins. Ignoring every single etiquette lesson he had attended during the last centuries, he interrupted the lord again. "Don't", he replied, breathing in and out slowly whilst still standing before Imladris' highest ranked vampires. "Just don't. I'm still grateful, for my friend would obviously be dead without your help, but this is where my gratitude ends. If you would excuse me now."

Legolas tilted his head slightly, his only sign of showing respect, before turning on his heels and leaving them alone. Valar, he felt sick and everything seemed to endlessly spin around in his head, threatening to explode. He just wanted to lay down, close his eyes and shut out everything around him, but he still was a prince – and the leader of his friends too.

So he made his way back to the halls where his companions were located, everyone already up and packing their few things together. It seemed Gwathion had already told them everything that happened, and Legolas was thankful that he himself wouldn't be the bearer of such ill news. One task for less the agitated prince.

He was regarded with silent understanding, Glâmen laying a supporting hand on his shoulder before Legolas went to Caladir who was the only one still resting. "Goheno nin, mellon nin. [Forgive me, my friend.] Mayhap my actions were too harsh … and now you have to pay the price", he muttered with his head lowered in shame.

Unhappily he looked from his friends' weary body up to his tired and drawn face – but still a soft smile was placed upon kind lips. "Legolas, don't be sorry. We all vowed to follow you wherever your way leads you, and to this vow I still hold on", was his quiet answer and instantly weak arms were wrapped around the prince's trembling body.

Legolas buried his face in Caladir's long, dark brown hair, returning the hug almost desperately whilst trying to calm down, drawing strength from his best friend's presence. Slowly he felt that he could breathe again and after another minute he finally had collected himself, sitting up slowly. "Thank you", Legolas whispered and gave him a short smile before he turned towards the others, placing commands and organizing everything for their immediate departure.

* * *

It was about an hour later when the Silvan found themselves in the courtyard, heading towards Imladris' gates. Behind them stood Elrond, Elladan, Elrohir and Glorfindel who had wished them a good and safe journey, but they had been barely acknowledged by their guests. Still the Mirkwood party bowed slightly before them, for despite their devaluating treatment they didn't forget small acts of courtesy like this.

Legolas again wore his hunting garments, blending in perfectly with his environment if he wouldn't have been standing amidst paths of light stone. A long, curved bow rested behind his shoulder, together with his quiver full of arrows and his set of twin knives. Still he looked in every way the prince he was, his long, silver-blonde hair flowing softly over his shoulder, held back with three warrior braids – two on his side, one behind.

"Lord Elrond, Lord Elladan, Lord Elrohir, Lord Glorfindel" Legolas looked briefly at each of them, nodding his thanks before turning without further useless expressions of goodbye. He followed his companions who waited for him a few meters away, before stopping again to the sound of footsteps, fast and small.

With widened eyes he turned around, only to find Estel running towards him, almost the same way he had two days ago – but now with the difference that he didn't trip once, and his target wasn't his family but the Mirkwood vampires. "Estel!", Elrond gasped and stepped forward, but still he couldn't reach his foster son who jumped towards Legolas in the next second.

The prince barely caught the young one in his arms, ignoring both the Ñoldor and his own companions who shifted uncomfortable in the presence of an Edain child. "Las! Are you going away? You're leaving!", the boy cried out, burying his face in Legolas' shoulder who smiled sadly.

"I'm afraid I have to go, tithen pen [little one]", he quietly whispered, all colour draining from the boy's face when hearing those words. Estel looked up at him with a haunted look in his eyes, and it almost tore Legolas' heart apart to see those beautiful blue crystals filled with tears. "Forever?", the little one sobbed and the prince had to fight for his self-control again for he almost had cried too when seeing his new won friend so sad.

"Of course not. I promised, didn't I?", Legolas asked with a soft smile, still holding the Edain child on his arms who clutched at his shoulders like his life depended on it. "You promised", the boy replied, nodding earnestly and sobbing anew, his tears staining Legolas' garments, but the warrior didn't mind at all. "I promised", he confirmed again and now got his first small smile from the boy.

"You won't forget me?", Estel asked, still insecure, his eyes big blue ponds Legolas almost drowned in. "Of course not. Tell me, what name have you been given?" The Blond smiled at him, gently running one hand through the mess of dark locks. "Estel", came the weak answer and the boy snuggled closer, seemingly enjoying the closeness to the vampire.

"And what does Estel mean in the Common Language?"

"Hope"

"Yes, you're right. So stay true to you name and have hope. I never break my promises. Never ever."

Legolas slowly set the boy back on the ground before checking his weapons and composing himself. "Namárië [Farewell], Las" He looked down to his friend, both leading one hand to their hearts before extending them to one another, saying goodbye in the vampire's language of old.

"Na lû e-govaned vîn, tithen maethor nin. [Until next we meet, my little warrior.]" Estel's eyes widened slightly after hearing these words, or more because of the term Legolas used to call him.  _Tithen maethor nin [My little warrior]._  Somehow … these words struck an old, long forgotten memory inside him which he couldn't grasp.

And so Legolas and his hunting party began their long way back to Mirkwood, where the warriors would be already desperately needed. The prince put a supporting arm around Caladir's undamaged shoulder, both looking at each other, preparing themselves mentally for the hard journey.

"Have strength, my friend, I will get us all home safe and sound"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the part of my story with Estel as a child is now over. I'd say that he is about 7 years old in these last two chapters, if it interests you.
> 
> I hope, my story is still to your liking :) I'd very appreciate some reviews to know what you liked - and what you didn't. Maybe we see a bit of Thranduil in the coming chapter, but I can't promise anything for I haven't begun writing the 6th chapter yet.
> 
> See you (hopefully) in part 6!


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